Travelin' Soldier
by Roselynne Summers
Summary: Derek is a new Army recruit on his way to Fort Benning. Stiles is his waiter in a small diner along the way. Completely AU, and obviously Derek/Stiles.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

**28 Soldiers Killed In Car Bombing in Afghanistan**

As if it were the only news of importance, his eyes caught the headline in the Atlanta-Journal Constitution and would not peel away from it until he had read it in its entirety. It was a tragic retelling of a car bombing in Khost, Afghanistan, a city near to the Pakistan border. He could not fool himself into thinking he understood the intricacies of Afghan safe vs. hostile zones, but the continuous reports of casualties nearly made him jump off of the bus taking him to Fort Benning.

_Battles and wars are won in the end by the infantrymen._

The words of the Army recruiter rang clear in his head, acting as a buffer to keep his fear from overtaking him. The memory of the forty-something career army man campaigning for him to join the United States Army made him wonder how that he would feel if it had been members of his unit who were killed in that car bombing.

Derek folded the paper and tucked it in his backpack. He leaned back in his chair and used his grey U.S. Army hoodie as a cushion between him and the bus window. Interstate 20 provided little to distract him on their long drive from Fort Jackson to Fort Benning, and the lonely interstate town they exited into provided much less. Derek yawned as the driver stepped out and fueled up the large charter bus, taking nearly twenty minutes to fuel up and pull back out onto the road.

Derek began to drift off into sleep, but a large popping sound jolted him back into consciousness. Most of the other boys on the bus followed suit, waking up from their slumber and standing investigate the source of the loud noise. The driver quickly got up from his seat and stepped out, yelling several curse words along the way, as he walked outside to the back of the bus. A look out of the window showed a large cloud of black smoke rising from its engines.

Derek stretched his lean muscles and rubbed his face, his hands scraping along the unshaved stubble lining his face. He followed a few of the boys outside of the bus.

"Goddammit piece of shit!" The bus driver hollered as he kicked the bumper.

"That's not gonna get it working any faster," said a lanky, olive-skinned teenager, the boy Derek has spent most of his 20-hour bus ride sitting beside.

"I didn't ask for any smart-ass recruit attitudes," the driver cursed at Travis and pulled out his cell phone, "this could take days to fix, goddammit!"

"Wait," Derek said, turning to Travis, "are we stuck here?"

"I guess," Travis replied. He turned to yell at the bus driver again, "Hey sunshine! How long are we gonna be stuck here!"

"Get comfortable," he hollered back, "we're not going anywhere anytime soon."

XXXX

"Allison's going to kill me if she finds out I gave you red meat," Stiles said, eyeing the man sitting in the booth in front of him. He was Chris Argent, his friend Allison's father.

"Well she's not going to find out," Chris replied. He pulled Stiles' notepad from his hand and wrote _12 oz steak, medium rare_ on it. Chris handed it back to Stiles, "Thank you."

Stiles sighed. For a skinny older man Mr. Argent was intimidating, mostly due to the fact that he owned a gun shop down the road from the restaurant.

"You didn't say what side you wanted." Stiles quipped, rolling his eyes.

"Fries." Chris said.

Stiles shook his head, "You're worse than my dad." He turned to Terry and Peyton Argent, Chris's brothers and business partners, and took their orders. Once finished he walked away and stuck his notepad up on the cook's order line.

"Bobby!" Stiles shouted over the 70's music playing inside, "Bobby!"

"What!" Bobby, a significantly overweight line cook, walked up to the small opening between the kitchen and the bar.

"Hey, beautiful," Stiles grinned, "I know that steak says medium rare but cook it well done. And give him a half order of fries."

"Why?"

"Because not everyone can be 400 lbs with no heart disease and as pretty as you."

Bobby shrugged and waddled back over to the grill singing along to an obscure Cheap Trick song.

Stiles rolled his eyes and turned around, grabbing a pitcher of water and a ketchup bottle on his way back to his tables. He filled up the Argents' water cups and dropped off a third bottle of ketchup for a duo of log haulers.

"I'm going to charge you if you finish off this bottle too," Stiles commented as he cleaned up their table. This gave them more room to rest their giant arms as they loudly talked about new CB radios and the benefits of hauling to Savannah instead of Macon.

Stiles walked back to the service bar and began rinsing off dishes and sticking them in the small dishwasher. He dreamed that one day, once he was out of that town and into college, his serving career would shift into a profitable bartending "mini-career" to pay his way tuition. He flung a half-full ketchup bottle as if he were one of the bartenders throwing Jack in Coyote Ugly. Soon after the diner's doorbell rang signaling a new customer.

The new customer who walked in was tall, partially due to his styled hair. He was a little skinny, but more lean than lanky. He looked like most of the guys who left town did before they went off to college (or prison) and bulked up. The newcomer sat down in a booth by himself, a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution in his hands.

Stiles shifted from behind the bar and creaked up to Derek's booth.

"Welcome to the Diner," Stiles smiled as he placed silverware rolled in paper napkins in front of him.

Derek smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth, "Thanks."

"No problem," Stiles placed his hands behind his back, "I rolled those myself just for you, so that'll be an extra 10% on the tip if you don't mind."

"Alright," Derek laughed lightly, "so this place is just called the Diner?"

Stiles nodded, "Yeah, if the red neon sign didn't tell you that then our finely crafted menu will."

Derek lifted the menu, which was little more than a Word document printed on computer paper and stuffed in a sheet protector.

"Classy," Stiles grinned, "right?'

Derek nodded and tucked one hand in the pocket of his US Army hoodie, "Yep. Can I have a coffee?"

"Just coffee?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah," Derek nodded, "I'm just wasting some time."

Stiles nodded and walked off. He returned shortly after with Derek's coffee. Stiles sat the coffee down in front of Derek and took a seat across from him.

"You, sir, are in luck," Stiles said, "I'm on break, and you're the most interesting person in here so you get to deal with me."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "That's cool, I guess."

"So," Stiles leaned forward, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Derek shook his head, "Did my lack of an accent or my hoodie give it away."

Stiles wanted to say that he would have noticed someone as attractive as Derek if he had lived there, but instead opted for a less polarizing answer: "That's it."

Stiles was openly gay in the small interstate town, and thanks to an army of progressive teenagers at the high school he had very little trouble being out. His place on the football team helped subside the initial wave of stereotypes, but nevertheless his options were severely limited in the one-stop-light town.

"I'm from California," Derek said.

"Aren't people from California supposed to be tan?"

Derek grinned, "I guess. I'm from Beacon Hills, it's not really the OC. But it has a lot of trees."

Stiles nodded, "Trees are always a plus, we have plenty of them to. You should feel right at home here. So you're in the Army?"

"Yep, I'm going for basic training to Fort Benning."

"Some guys from my high school did their basic training there, I think they're in the infantry?"

Derek grinned again, "I'm thinking that's where I'll end up."

"Well why are you here and not on a bus to go get a buzz cut and bigger muscles?"

Derek looked at his arms, taking the line as a slight insult to his physique, "Our bus broke down, we're gonna be here for a while. And my muscles are big enough already."

"Sure," Stiles said as he turned to look at the kitchen. Bobby rang the bell to signal that food was ready.

"Well," Stiles continued, "if you get bored reading your current events just wave me down."

Bobby rang the bell again.

Derek nodded, "You're the first person I've had this long of a conversation with since I left California. Feel free to stop by."

"STILES!" Bobby yelled.

"I'M COMING FAT ASS!" Stiles jumped up and rushed to pick up the Argent's food. Nearly as soon as he dropped it off at the Argent's table a thin dark haired beauty entered the Diner. She immediately smiled and rushed up to hug Stiles, then noticed her father sitting next to him and began to scold him.

"Daddy!" Allison yanked the plate out from in front of her father and immediately stormed behind service bar to the cook's line. She slid the plate back to Bobby. "Give him a grilled chicken breast with whatever side comes with the most veggies. Thanks, Bobby!"

Allison walked back out to meet Stiles, who was in the middle of a scolding glare from Chris.

"Did you call her?" He asked indignantly.

"No," Allison interrupted Stiles' nonverbal response as she neared the table, "I saw your truck outside so I thought I'd come in and say hey."

"Hi." Chris said, glaring at his daughter.

"Hi." Allison replied as she tugged Stiles back over to the service bar, "Sorry about that."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I'll be lucky if I get 10% off of him now."

"Whatever," Allison shook her head, "are you coming tonight? Scott said you're not texting him back and you how he queens out when the two of you are apart."

Stiles grinned, "Yeah, sorry, my phone's been dead all day. I'll be there."

Allison smiled, "Yay! But seriously, sometimes I wonder about the two of you. If he weren't regularly sexing me up I'd swear Scott had a thing for you." She hugged Stiles and grabbed her camouflage purse; "Don't forget it's at Jackson's family's field this time. Lydia's dad hasn't stopped riding her about the last field party we had on his land."

Stiles had drifted his attention back over to Derek while Allison was talking. Much to his dismay Derek never once looked up from his copy of the paper. Allison followed Stiles' gaze and quickly pinched his arm.

"Who is that?" Allison asked.

"Hey!" Stiles blocked her line of sight, "Don't stare. You've got Scott."

"But still," Allison peeked around Stiles, "he's gorgeous. He must be new here."

"He's not staying," Stiles said, "he's in the Army. Their bus just broke down off of the interstate and he's just hanging out until it's fixed."

Allison raised an eyebrow at Stiles, "So I'm not the only one who think's he's fine."

"Out." Stiles pointed at the door, "Any louder and you'll completely salt my game."

He followed Allison to the door, but she paused for a moment and turned back to face him, "Did you say a bus full of Army boys is stranded just up the road?"

"Whore, bye!" Stiles turned around and proceeded to bring Mr. Argent his new platter of food. After cashing out the logger guys he finally had time to take a seat with Derek. Stiles plopped down and propped his arms on the table. "Miss me?"

Derek put the paper down, "Not at all."

Stiles feigned insult, but the headline to the article he was reading caught his eyes. "Isn't that a little morbid to be reading?"

Derek shrugged, "I guess. I never really paid any attention to these news stories until I joined up. It's kind of scary, you know?"

Stiles nodded, "But at least the death toll is going down, right?"

"Yeah, I think," Derek leaned back, propping one of his elbows on the top of the booth, "I don't know, I guess I should avoid these things."

"I mean, the 'war,' or whatever you want to call it, will be over soon, right? You may still be in BT when it's done."

"There's always something going on somewhere," Derek said, "BT is around 9 weeks, and then after that I don't know what's going to happen."

"You didn't research it at all?"

"No," Derek shook his head, "I wanted out of Beacon Hills and the Army was my ticket out. I turned 18 two days ago, officially legal to join."

"I feel like my parents would freak if I tried to join."

Derek nodded.

"How did yours react?"

Derek shook his head, "That's a touchy subject." Derek then forced a smile, "But let's just say I didn't shatter anyone's world when I left."

Stiles didn't know how to respond to that statement, but tried his best anyway. "Well, this Diner will be less interesting when you leave, so I guess I can be the one who doesn't approve of you joining the military."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Okay. Speaking of leaving though, I should head back. Wouldn't want them to leave without me."

Derek began to pull out some money, but Stiles stopped him.

"Please," Stiles put his hand over Derek's, "you're saving our country and all that, let me cover the coffee."

"Alright," Derek smiled and rose from his seat, "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Stiles replied. He grabbed the empty coffee cup and unused silverware and headed towards the service bar. As Derek walked past on his way to leave Stiles wanted to call him over, but instead watched him walk past and out the door.

Stiles quietly began to whisper the word "idiot" to himself over and over again, but was soon interrupted by Chris Argent approaching the cash register.

"Did you enjoy it?" Stiles asked, somewhat smartly, as he took Chris' money.

"No," Chris said plainly, "but it look's like someone's got a crush."

Stiles was in the middle of handing him his change when he spoke, and instead decided to shove it in his pocket. "For that, I'm keeping all of this change as my tip. You're old and saying things like that is creepy. Go away." Stiles pointed the door, and did not move from his stance until Chris had left.

X-X-X-X

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Just like with my other stories please let me know if you see any mistakes that need correcting, and review to tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and all the feedback! I'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter!

_Chapter Two_

Derek returned to the bus a mere hour after he left, but the scene that awaited him was much different. Their bus driver was waddling like a penguin while he struggled to fix the bus. He had removed his white button down charter bus shirt to reveal a white sweaty wife-beater, flabby arms, and a farmer's tan that could blind you in a moment. Despite the distracting grunts and guttural roars he released when he realized he was doing something wrong, this could not distract Derek from the large Chevrolet Silverado parked on the opposite side of the road.

Its white paint was caked with mud, likely from mudbogging with its oversized Outlaw mud tires. The driver and passenger's side doors were open with Brad Paisley blasting from the speakers. Several of the soon-to-be army boys were relaxing in its large truck bed chatting up several good-looking girls. A large cooler full of water and Powerade lay open on the ground with even more girls and guys mingling near it on the side of the road. Once Derek approached the impromptu social gathering he quickly spotted the girl that waiter was talking to earlier.

"Hi," Allison said as approached Derek, holding her hands over her eyes to block the sun, "you're back already?"

Derek raised one of his eyebrows, "Already?"

Allison smiled and locked her arm in his as she walked him to the cooler. She picked a Powerade up and handed it to him, "Sorry, I thought you were hanging out with Stiles."

"Stiles?" Derek asked, uncapping the bottle and drinking a bit.

"The waiter?" Allison's face began to turn a bright shade of red when she realized Stiles must not have made an impression.

"Oh," Derek nodded, "yeah, he was—um—friendly."

Allison smiled in agreement, "That's Stiles. He's friendly."

Derek put the cap back on his drink and took a seat beside Allison on the grassy hill, "Why Powerade? Do they not have Gatorade around here?"

Allison shivered, "Gatorade? You're in Bulldawg country, buddy."

Derek laughed, "I'm not sure I know what that means."

A girl in short jean shorts and a bright blue tanktop plopped down beside Derek on the opposite side of Allison. She leaned over to him and stared at him in disbelief, "Did I just hear that you don't what Bulldawg country is?"

Derek leaned back a bit, "Did I offend someone?"

"Lydia," Allison sighed, "stop being a creep. The Bulldawgs are the University of Georgia's mascot. The University of Florida's are Gators. So, we stay away from Gatorade. It's out of principle."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "You've got a boyfriend Allison, stop hitting on him. He's scrawny anyway." Lydia rose from her seat and stumbled off into the crowd.

Allison's face turned beet red and she nervously laughed, "I'm sorry, she's a little drunk. You wouldn't know it, but she's got a lot horse sense for someone who lays out all night. "

Derek shrugged, barely understand the southern slang, "I'm not offended. I don't think I'm scrawny."

Allison smiled, "You're right. You'll bulk up in the Army anyway."

The two sat in idle conversation for the bulk of the time the girls were there entertaining the recruits. Derek had never been adept at small talk, but Allison seemed to make up for that in their conversation. He learned quite a bit about her, her family, and the town throughout the afternoon. She was very persistent about him meeting several of the girls there, and as such she strutted through the small crowd introducing him to her friends.

She abandoned him to take a phone call while he was in the middle of telling a pretty blonde his name. She introduced herself as Erica. Moreso than Lydia and Allison, she exuded a similar breed of confidence that the waiter seemed to have at the Diner. She quickly enthralled him in a chat about the military. She asked him about his plans, asked him to explain more about the way basic training works, and generally inquired about every aspect Derek knew about the military.

"You're good," Derek grinned as the two sat on the truck bed.

"What?" Erica grinned with an intentionally guilty look on her face. She licked her lips before drinking some of her water.

"You've got me talking about things I'm interested in, you're acting really interested," Derek shrugged, "I honestly don't think I've talked this much in a year."

Erica put her hand on Derek's upper thigh, "I can do more than talk," she whispered in his ear.

Derek leaned back and shook his head, "Sorry, I—"

Erica shrugged, "You're good. I better see you at the field party tonight." As she walked away she stopped a whispered something to Allison, which Derek could unfortunately not hear.

Allison took Erica's seat on the truckbed, "Your boy Trey just told us that you guys are stuck here for the night. I guess that means that you're coming to the party."

"What party?' Derek asked, "And Trey's my boy?"

"A field party," Allison grinned, "you're from California, right? Trust me, this will be much better than anything going on out there. We're all gonna go get ready and we'll come by and pick you guys up in a little while."

"I'm guessing I don't have much choice?"

"Nope."

X-X-X-X

"NO!" Stiles exclaimed, "Are you serious!"

"As I live and breath," Erica smiled, "I was sweating like a French whore in church, rubbing against him, used that Cosmo guide to get a guy talking, everything! I kissed him and he backed away."

Allison and Erica stopped by the Diner to fill Stiles in on the events of their brief party with the military boys. It was late in the afternoon and Stiles had nearly met the end of his workday. He had agreed earlier to go the field party, but was not to excited about attending a party on Jackson Whittemore's property. All in all, Stiles would consider most of the guys he knew to be tolerant, even open-minded about his sexuality. Jackson was the only one who tended to make Stiles uncomfortable.

"And you're a whore!" Stiles exclaimed again, "If he wouldn't go for you then who would he go for?"

Erica pressed her lips, "I'm a sexual creature, I don't see a problem with that."

Allison rolled her eyes, "Stop talking city on us, tramp." She and Erica exchanged a playful nudge as they turned their attention back to Stiles. "So, I'm thinking you may have a chance with him."

Stiles poked his bottom lip out as the engaged a quick, ADHD flash of thoughts, "A chance with someone going into the army?" He shook his head as he stood and continued to clean tables in the empty diner, "He's cute, and if he's gay he'd be the first gay guy I've ever met face-to-face, but he'll be leaving tomorrow, right?"

Allison and Erica followed him from the table he was cleaning to the service bar, "No!" Erica protested, "You have to try, at least. If you make out you can always say you made out with a military guy."

"That's not as taboo since they repealed Don't Ask Don't Tell." Stiles began to clear out the dishwasher.

"But he's so adorable!" Erica protested.

Stiles stopped and smacked his lips. He glared at Erica and grinned, "You just want me to find out if he's gay so you don't feel as bad about being turned down."

"Uh," Erica raised her hands in defense, "I'm not that pathetic." Her words were met with judgmental stares from her friends, "Okay, lying is a sin, I know. Yes, I refuse to believe he would turn me down. He has to swing for the other team." She began laughing along with Stiles and Allison.

"Stiles!" Bobby exclaimed from the kitchen, "I hate to interrupt your episode of Gay Times at Riverside High but I want to leave. Finish cleaning!"

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll be there with bells on."


End file.
